Entry tags:
FFVIII: Tomorrow Will Hurt
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Seifer/Squall, Squall/Rinoa
Warnings: Angst, infidelity, smut
Rating: NC17
Summary: Dark nights and trysts and hotel rooms. For
fated_children.
The street is dark. Seifer is smoking a cigarette, leaning back against the wall. Nonchalant. Not nonchalant enough to make his presence in that dark street anything but a mystery to be solved. It is, after all, Balamb. People don't stay out late in dark corners in Balamb, as a general rule.
When Seifer sees him coming, he drops the cigarette and crushes it under his heel. He doesn't smile when Squall reaches him. "You're late."
"I couldn't get away. She suspects something, Seifer."
Seifer nods slightly. He moves closer to Squall, not quite touching him, holding himself back, aching to kiss him. "Let's get a room at the hotel. She won't find out, Squall. We can't let her find out. She wouldn't understand. It'd break her heart."
"You think I don't know that? She's my wife."
"But you don't love her," Seifer says, as if Squall needs reminding. "You should -- "
"Drop it. Let's go to the hotel."
They go. Seifer moves quietly, barely making a sound, used, now, to making himself a non-entity, a cipher, something no one will pay attention to. And Squall is quiet, because he always has been quiet, because that's the way he is. They get a room in the hotel together, go up to it, still silent, knowing this stage of the proceedings so well. And when they get there and close the door behind them, then Seifer lets himself move.
He kisses Squall. Softly and tenderly but with an air of desperation that can't be missed. Squall reaches up, tangles his fingers in Seifer's short hair, kisses back with all the tenderness he has. He isn't a tender man. Not usually.
"If she finds out..."
"We'll have to stop this."
"It'd break my heart, Squall."
"You're stronger than she is," Squall says, quietly. He brushes his fingers over Seifer's cheek, traces his lips lightly. He says it as if convincing himself. Trying to convince Seifer. Failing at both. Both of them know that Seifer would be nothing these days without this vague hope, this thing to look forward to.
"I love you."
Squall can't say the words back, not to Seifer. Not when he says them to Rinoa and makes them a lie. "You know how I feel," he says, instead, letting Seifer kiss him again. Gently, gently. They never do more than this. Seifer never pushes him and that makes it worse. They just lie there, in bed, and Seifer holds Squall, and sometimes he cries, and Squall lies there and knows he should be with Rinoa.
---
"This is the last time," he tells Seifer. He hates the look that fills Seifer's eyes then, desperation and disbelief, and turns on his heel, heading for the hotel without waiting for Seifer to say anything. He doesn't wait for Seifer until he stands outside the hotel, full of guilt already for what he plans to do to them. To Seifer, to Rinoa. For so long, he's lived a lie, taking what he's never wanted and spurning the things he's always wanted. For just one night -- tonight -- he wants things his way. Even if it breaks them all.
He just wants to know what it'd be like. To touch, to be touched, by someone he truly wants. Just once.
He kisses Seifer, when they reach the hotel room. He knows Seifer is spilling over with heartbreak, with a desperate need to know, and he knows that Seifer doesn't dare ask. He pushes his hands underneath Seifer's trenchcoat and gently pushes it off, takes off his own jacket and drops them in a heap. He pushes Seifer over to the bed.
"What -- "
"Ssh," Squall says, kissing him again. Any words, he feels, could break him, change his mind. After all -- he knows it's wrong to do this.
He pulls Seifer's shirt off over his head, runs his hand over his chest and teases lightly at his nipples. He knows Seifer wants to know what is going on more than ever, now. He distracts him, bending down and nipping lightly at one of his nipples. Seifer's fingers tangle in his hair as he nips and licks and sucks, teasing, fumbling carefully with Seifer's pants, undoing them and shoving them down. Seifer kicks his boots off, steps out of his pants, sits on the bed.
"Are you going to fuck me?" he asks, his voice carefully quiet.
"Do you want me to?"
Seifer doesn't answer. Squall closes his eyes and kisses him and pushes Seifer back on the bed, pushing him down and nudges his legs apart. He has lube, in his pocket, so he finds it and then gets undressed himself and then kneels on the bed, putting the slick stuff over his fingers. It doesn't really matter what Seifer wants. Not right now. Squall teases at his entrance and watches him bite his lip, watches his fingers clutch at the bedclothes. He pushes a finger into him, listens to the catch in his breath and kisses him again.
"Don't shut me out," he says, and thinks about how ironic it is for him to say that. He's never let Seifer in. He regrets that now. He could've done, once.
Seifer looks up at him. "Why are you doing this?"
Squall shakes his head. He pushes a second finger into Seifer, twists them a little -- smiles a little at Seifer's moan, knowing he wants this even if he hates the reasons, knowing he can't say no to this, even if it's just once and then never again. He pushes a third finger in, pushes them in deep and makes Seifer arch up, listening to his breath quicken.
He slides his fingers out of Seifer carefully, slicking his cock with a little more of the lube. Seifer looks up at him, his eyes naked and unhappy as well as full of desire. Squall wants to drive all other emotions out of Seifer, leave him with the desire, leave him aching, aching for more. It's a beautiful kind of cruelty.
He pushes into Seifer, moaning quietly at the feel of him, the heat, and the way Seifer's arms reach up, curling around him and drawing him in closer. He kisses Seifer again, nips at his lip. He pulls out of him, thrusts back in, closes his eyes to concentrate on the way Seifer squeezes around him, listening to Seifer's curse and listening to him pant for breath as he fucks him, harder, faster, trying to make him forget, to leave him simply longing for more. Seifer's fingers dig hard into his back.
"Oh god," Seifer whispers, "oh god. Oh Squall."
Squall kisses him again, gently stealing the words away and silencing him. They move together so well, like they fought, fitting together like he fitted into Seifer's arms all the countless times they met before. He moans softly, overwhelmed, suddenly regretting that this is the first time, the last time. He doesn't think he could get enough, in a whole lifetime, of Seifer's moans.
Seifer squeezes around him tighter. He wraps a hand around Seifer's cock, strokes him quickly, watches his expression when he comes and thrusts deeper into him as he squeezes around him. Seifer holds onto him tightly, closing his eyes, his fingers digging in hard. Squall pants for breath as he fucks Seifer, fucks him hard. He pushes as deep into him as he can and lets himself come, feeling Seifer shudder under him, feeling all the places Seifer's fingers dug in throb faintly in a lasting reminder of what's happened here. He lets himself fall into it, closing his eyes and arching his back, rocking his hips slowly, riding it out.
When he pulls out of Seifer and lies down, Seifer looks at him with hurt eyes and so he looks away, closes his eyes.
"Why?" Seifer asks, again. His tone is aching, now, almost crying aloud with his pain.
He doesn't say anything.
Seifer looks at Squall, lying beside him, eyes closed. He looks beautiful. It cuts at Seifer's heart, but it hasn't broken it yet. After all this time, he won't be so easily broken. But tomorrow will hurt. Every single day, it'll hurt.
Pairing: Seifer/Squall, Squall/Rinoa
Warnings: Angst, infidelity, smut
Rating: NC17
Summary: Dark nights and trysts and hotel rooms. For
The street is dark. Seifer is smoking a cigarette, leaning back against the wall. Nonchalant. Not nonchalant enough to make his presence in that dark street anything but a mystery to be solved. It is, after all, Balamb. People don't stay out late in dark corners in Balamb, as a general rule.
When Seifer sees him coming, he drops the cigarette and crushes it under his heel. He doesn't smile when Squall reaches him. "You're late."
"I couldn't get away. She suspects something, Seifer."
Seifer nods slightly. He moves closer to Squall, not quite touching him, holding himself back, aching to kiss him. "Let's get a room at the hotel. She won't find out, Squall. We can't let her find out. She wouldn't understand. It'd break her heart."
"You think I don't know that? She's my wife."
"But you don't love her," Seifer says, as if Squall needs reminding. "You should -- "
"Drop it. Let's go to the hotel."
They go. Seifer moves quietly, barely making a sound, used, now, to making himself a non-entity, a cipher, something no one will pay attention to. And Squall is quiet, because he always has been quiet, because that's the way he is. They get a room in the hotel together, go up to it, still silent, knowing this stage of the proceedings so well. And when they get there and close the door behind them, then Seifer lets himself move.
He kisses Squall. Softly and tenderly but with an air of desperation that can't be missed. Squall reaches up, tangles his fingers in Seifer's short hair, kisses back with all the tenderness he has. He isn't a tender man. Not usually.
"If she finds out..."
"We'll have to stop this."
"It'd break my heart, Squall."
"You're stronger than she is," Squall says, quietly. He brushes his fingers over Seifer's cheek, traces his lips lightly. He says it as if convincing himself. Trying to convince Seifer. Failing at both. Both of them know that Seifer would be nothing these days without this vague hope, this thing to look forward to.
"I love you."
Squall can't say the words back, not to Seifer. Not when he says them to Rinoa and makes them a lie. "You know how I feel," he says, instead, letting Seifer kiss him again. Gently, gently. They never do more than this. Seifer never pushes him and that makes it worse. They just lie there, in bed, and Seifer holds Squall, and sometimes he cries, and Squall lies there and knows he should be with Rinoa.
"This is the last time," he tells Seifer. He hates the look that fills Seifer's eyes then, desperation and disbelief, and turns on his heel, heading for the hotel without waiting for Seifer to say anything. He doesn't wait for Seifer until he stands outside the hotel, full of guilt already for what he plans to do to them. To Seifer, to Rinoa. For so long, he's lived a lie, taking what he's never wanted and spurning the things he's always wanted. For just one night -- tonight -- he wants things his way. Even if it breaks them all.
He just wants to know what it'd be like. To touch, to be touched, by someone he truly wants. Just once.
He kisses Seifer, when they reach the hotel room. He knows Seifer is spilling over with heartbreak, with a desperate need to know, and he knows that Seifer doesn't dare ask. He pushes his hands underneath Seifer's trenchcoat and gently pushes it off, takes off his own jacket and drops them in a heap. He pushes Seifer over to the bed.
"What -- "
"Ssh," Squall says, kissing him again. Any words, he feels, could break him, change his mind. After all -- he knows it's wrong to do this.
He pulls Seifer's shirt off over his head, runs his hand over his chest and teases lightly at his nipples. He knows Seifer wants to know what is going on more than ever, now. He distracts him, bending down and nipping lightly at one of his nipples. Seifer's fingers tangle in his hair as he nips and licks and sucks, teasing, fumbling carefully with Seifer's pants, undoing them and shoving them down. Seifer kicks his boots off, steps out of his pants, sits on the bed.
"Are you going to fuck me?" he asks, his voice carefully quiet.
"Do you want me to?"
Seifer doesn't answer. Squall closes his eyes and kisses him and pushes Seifer back on the bed, pushing him down and nudges his legs apart. He has lube, in his pocket, so he finds it and then gets undressed himself and then kneels on the bed, putting the slick stuff over his fingers. It doesn't really matter what Seifer wants. Not right now. Squall teases at his entrance and watches him bite his lip, watches his fingers clutch at the bedclothes. He pushes a finger into him, listens to the catch in his breath and kisses him again.
"Don't shut me out," he says, and thinks about how ironic it is for him to say that. He's never let Seifer in. He regrets that now. He could've done, once.
Seifer looks up at him. "Why are you doing this?"
Squall shakes his head. He pushes a second finger into Seifer, twists them a little -- smiles a little at Seifer's moan, knowing he wants this even if he hates the reasons, knowing he can't say no to this, even if it's just once and then never again. He pushes a third finger in, pushes them in deep and makes Seifer arch up, listening to his breath quicken.
He slides his fingers out of Seifer carefully, slicking his cock with a little more of the lube. Seifer looks up at him, his eyes naked and unhappy as well as full of desire. Squall wants to drive all other emotions out of Seifer, leave him with the desire, leave him aching, aching for more. It's a beautiful kind of cruelty.
He pushes into Seifer, moaning quietly at the feel of him, the heat, and the way Seifer's arms reach up, curling around him and drawing him in closer. He kisses Seifer again, nips at his lip. He pulls out of him, thrusts back in, closes his eyes to concentrate on the way Seifer squeezes around him, listening to Seifer's curse and listening to him pant for breath as he fucks him, harder, faster, trying to make him forget, to leave him simply longing for more. Seifer's fingers dig hard into his back.
"Oh god," Seifer whispers, "oh god. Oh Squall."
Squall kisses him again, gently stealing the words away and silencing him. They move together so well, like they fought, fitting together like he fitted into Seifer's arms all the countless times they met before. He moans softly, overwhelmed, suddenly regretting that this is the first time, the last time. He doesn't think he could get enough, in a whole lifetime, of Seifer's moans.
Seifer squeezes around him tighter. He wraps a hand around Seifer's cock, strokes him quickly, watches his expression when he comes and thrusts deeper into him as he squeezes around him. Seifer holds onto him tightly, closing his eyes, his fingers digging in hard. Squall pants for breath as he fucks Seifer, fucks him hard. He pushes as deep into him as he can and lets himself come, feeling Seifer shudder under him, feeling all the places Seifer's fingers dug in throb faintly in a lasting reminder of what's happened here. He lets himself fall into it, closing his eyes and arching his back, rocking his hips slowly, riding it out.
When he pulls out of Seifer and lies down, Seifer looks at him with hurt eyes and so he looks away, closes his eyes.
"Why?" Seifer asks, again. His tone is aching, now, almost crying aloud with his pain.
He doesn't say anything.
Seifer looks at Squall, lying beside him, eyes closed. He looks beautiful. It cuts at Seifer's heart, but it hasn't broken it yet. After all this time, he won't be so easily broken. But tomorrow will hurt. Every single day, it'll hurt.

no subject